


Soft Security

by Artemis_Dreamer



Series: The Squishy Apocalypse [10]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: Dessert & Sweets, Drabble, Excessive Snacking, Fat Robots, Fluff, I'm Going to Hell, M/M, Mech Preg, Not Canon Compliant, Size Difference, Weight Gain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-17
Updated: 2017-03-17
Packaged: 2018-10-06 14:56:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10337100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Artemis_Dreamer/pseuds/Artemis_Dreamer
Summary: Red Alert had taken to snacking whenever he was on monitor duty. Given that he was the security director of the Autobot cause, and as such never actually left the monitors, this meant that he was snacking constantly during every waking cycle of every orn.---In which Red is chubby and pregnant, and Inferno loves every inch of his frame. Fluffy sparkmate fluff!





	

**Author's Note:**

> WARNING: This is a work of fetish fiction, involving weight gain, unhealthy eating, and implied belly stuffing.
> 
> Don't like, don't read.

Red Alert yawned broadly, rubbing his tired optics with the backs of his servos in a vain effort to stay awake. This was the third time that he'd yawned in the last breem, and the seventeenth time that he'd yawned in the last cycle. His optics kept offlining of their own accord, and there were kliks here and there that he simply couldn't account for - his processor was experiencing intermittent and involuntary shutdowns.

Simply put, the security director was exhausted. 

"I thought we agreed that you'd stop working this late." An unamused voice from the doorway caused Red's frame to jolt with alarm, a rush of adrenaline clearing all traces of tiredness from his processor. His gaze flickered frantically across the monitors, searching for the identity of the intruder. 

Thankfully, it seemed that there were no intruders aboard the Ark - the voice in question belonged to his sparkmate.

"The Decepticons aren't going to plan their attacks around our recharge cycles." Red Alert scolded tersely, turning his chair away from Teletraan's monitors to glare at the guilty mech. 

"If I was able to sneak up on you, then so could a Decepticon. You're too tired to process straight." Inferno kept his tone calm in an effort to placate his paranoid sparkmate. He hadn't meant to startle the smaller mech, and felt rather guilty for doing so. Such scares could be damaging to Red's already-questionable processor health.

Red Alert knew full well that Inferno was right. No detail ever escaped his heightened senses and hyper-aware processor unless he was completely and utterly exhausted. The security director huffed a frustrated exvent, barely keeping a pout from his lipplates.

Watching his sparkmate's shoulder struts droop with resignation, Inferno instantly knew that he'd won their little argument. He took a moment to silently thank Primus for small miracles - Red Alert could be remarkably stubborn at times, even when Inferno clearly had his best interests at spark.

"Good, now let's go and recharge." Inferno scooped his sparkmate up out of a suspiciously oversized chair, intending to carry the security director back to their berth. Red's frame was tiny, barely bigger than that of a minibot, making him the absolute perfect size to carry around the base. Unsurprisingly, the firemech did so at every possible opportunity.

As Inferno settled Red Alert in his arms, a grunt of exertion escaped his vocalizer. 

"You gained weight again," the taller mech observed wryly. Every orn, it seemed that his sparkmate was even heavier than he had been the orn before.

Red Alert bristled with irritation. He was fully aware that he'd gained weight. It was that logical consequence of his newfound habit, after all - he'd taken to snacking whenever he was on monitor duty. Given that he was the security director of the Autobot cause, and as such never actually left the monitors, this meant that he was snacking constantly during every waking cycle of every orn.

He was fully aware that he'd gained weight, but he had no desire to be lectured about it. Least of all by his sparkmate.

"And who's fault is that?" Red Alert snapped, his tone irate. "The humans. The humans and their frelling sweets. How can one juvenile species have so many different kinds of dessert?"

It was a rhetorical question, and Inferno knew it. Inferno also knew that the security director had no intention of ever accepting responsibility for his actions. They'd had this conversation before.

"Nomech's blaming you, Red." Inferno reassured the smaller bot, his tone transitioning from calm to soothing. He knew from experience that his high-strung sparkmate was even less stable than usual when in need of recharge. 

"In fact," the firemech continued with a grin, "I like you even better this way."

Inferno casually groped a handful of the security director's chubby aft, humming with approval as the soft plating squished between the digits of his servo. 

Red Alert glared up at his impertinent sparkmate with wordless disbelief. 

"You're all soft and cuddly now. It reminds me of one of those toys that the human children are so fond of - I think they're called teddy bears?" That was a drastic understatement. His sparkmate was infinitely softer and infinitely more cuddly than any teddy bear on the planet. 

Inferno knew that the smaller mech was neither convinced nor flattered by the comparison, so he quickly diverted the conversation. "Besides, so much extra fuel means that our sparkling will definitely be healthy."

"Sparkling? What -" Red Alert seemed momentarily confused by the other mech's statement, but realization dawned almost immediately. "You've already gotten the test results from Ratchet. Without me."

"Yep. You're carrying," Inferno confirmed, an unapologetic grin on his faceplates.

Red Alert frowned at the abject joy evident in his sparkmate's tone. "I'm carrying, and we're in the middle of a Primus-damned war." The security director groused. "Our sparkling will be in danger from the very orn that it's born."

Precaution after precaution would be necessary to ensure the sparkling's safety from the Decepticons, and from the humans, and even from the more rambunctious Autobots. There were nearly an infinite number of variables to be considered, and Red Alert could feel his processor beginning to ache at the mere thought of it.

"Luckily, our sparkling will be born to the one mech who I know can keep it safe. You're going to be a wonderful carrier, Red. No, you're going to be the best carrier in Cybertronian history." Inferno's words were soothing and earnest. It was important to keep his sparkmate calm, to reassure Red Alert that he had every faith in his abilities.

The security director's cheekplates flushed with embarrassed pride. He was aware that Inferno was exaggerating, but such generous praise brought warmth to his troubled spark and relief to his equally troubled processor. 

Red Alert was also likely to be the chubbiest carrier in Cybertronian history, Inferno mused. Taking a moment to properly evaluate the security director's frame, the firemech abruptly realized just how soft his sparkmate had actually become. 

Delicately put, Red was luxuriously plush. Every inch of his plating had grown exponentially thicker, even the plating over his arms and chestplates. His huge chassis could now account for fully one-third of his mass - the distorted metal had formed soft, heavy rolls that bulged outwards and downwards, hanging over his thickened thighs. In fact, those thighs had become so thick that the security director actually waddled when he walked.

This of course, was to say nothing of Red Alert's aft and hips, which were heavily padded to such an extreme that the smaller mech often found himself becoming stuck in chairs. This was also to say nothing of his faceplates, which were now cherubically plump and gradually acquiring a second chin. Bluntly put, the security director was frelling huge.

Inferno paused to savour the feeling of so much incredibly soft plating pressed up against his own solid frame. Red now weighed more than even a regularly-sized mech, but carrying him was well worth the effort. Every inch of that warm, squishy metal was bliss. Pure, unadulterated bliss.

How was it possible for anymech to become this massively fat from snacking? The answer was surprisingly straightforward. To Red Alert, half a dozen pastries, a chocolate bar, and three tall glasses of energon constituted a "snack". A single snack, merely one of the many that he consumed on an ornly basis.

"Berth?" Inferno blurted, realizing that he had been standing in silence for several kliks, lost in the contemplation of his sparkmate's perfect frame.

"Only if you get me some cookies first." The security director demanded, his tone playful. "Our sparkling needs more fuel."

"I'm going to end up spoiling you," Inferno chuckled. The firemech would gladly fetch Red Alert as many cookies as he could could possibly want. He was even willing to feed them to the smaller mech by servo, if the opportunity presented itself. 

"You already have." Red tilted his helm upwards, pressing an affectionate kiss to his sparkmate's jaw. 

Inferno nuzzled the smaller mech's helm with a contented grin, and turned to leave the monitoring station. He planned to carry Red Alert to the kitchen, to gather as many cookies as possible, and then to the berthroom, to feed every last one of them to his sparkmate.

"Wait." The security director interjected, laying a hand on Inferno's forearm. The firemech paused momentarily, giving Red Alert the time that he needed to issue a series of commands to the Ark's computer.

"Teletraan, maintain internal visual surveillance and external audiovisual surveillance. Double the range on all interior proximity alarms, triple the range on all exterior alarms. Ping me immediately with any suspicious activity, audio or visual."

"And?" Inferno prompted, pleasantly amused by the smaller mech's stern attitude towards the AI. There was no doubt that he took their collective security very seriously.

"And disable the surveillance cameras in berthroom eight." Red instructed grudgingly.

His paranoia wasn't comfortable with leaving even a single inch of the base unmonitored, but he and Inferno had come to an agreement. Nomech and no AI needed to see the excessively affectionate kissing, cuddling, and feeding that the security director and the firemech enjoyed behind closed doors.

Particularly not the feeding.

Red Alert's tanks grumbled loudly as Inferno caressed the thick plating of his chassis, the taller mech absentmindedly mapping each familiar fold and roll with the tips of his digits.

Midnight snacks could easily become midnight feasts. Inferno would thoroughly enjoy every moment of spoiling his sparkmate, of stuffing the chubby little mech full of cookies right up until the moment that their long-delayed recharge cycle finally overtook them both. If he had his way, Red would be too full to even get out of berth in the morning.

Nomech and no AI needed to see the excessively affectionate kissing, cuddling, and feeding that the security director and the firemech enjoyed behind closed doors. 

Especially not the feeding.

**Author's Note:**

> For the anonymous Riceball. I tried my best to summarize the main points of your prompt - I hope that you like it!
> 
> This is probably the squishiest I've ever portrayed a bot, though Megs and Opty were getting pretty close to this size by the end of my last series. The squishier, the better, am I right?
> 
> Requests are temporarily closed. I've been experiencing some health issues, and will have less time to write going forward. I still intend to complete all current requests, however, and should have them finished within the month. 
> 
> Any and all feedback is appreciated.


End file.
